


Return to Innocence

by Lady_of_Rohan



Series: Arcadia For Lovers [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Affection, Art, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Collaboration, Confusion, Country & Western, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Cute, Denial of Feelings, Digital Art, Falling In Love, Feelings, Flowers, Herbalism, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Nude Photos, Photography, Romance, Sexual Confusion, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Rohan/pseuds/Lady_of_Rohan
Summary: Seeking refuge from the heaviness of the Van Der Linde gang's fate, Arthur finds himself more often than not, in the company of Albert Mason. As the duo makes ends meet via his unexpected career as a pinup cowboy with Albert's photographic expertise, Arthur struggles with inexplicable feelings surfacing every time he's around the other man.For tumblr's Red Dead Redemption minibang!My partner on this project is the incredible iamuuaremee, who drew the gorgeous companion piece!





	Return to Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever minibang and it was a joy to work on, despite this year being kind of crazy! I love Albert and Arthur so goshdarned much. I really hope to write a lot more RDR in the future.
> 
> Please check out my partner for the minibang at:  
> https://twitter.com/iamuuaremee  
> iamuuaremee.tumblr.com
> 
> Also yes, the title is like the Enigma song on the old 90s Pure Moods album. When I think about nature and spirituality that song always comes to mind.

Arthur was precariously balancing one foot upon an outcropped log, a large muskie slung over his bare shoulder as a waterfall roared majestically in the background.

 

In his other hand was a gun instead of a fishing rod, as one might expect of a fisherman, as he donned a smirk for the flashing camera placed upon the riverbank.

 

"Almost got it, Mister Morgan! Yes! One more moment! Hold it, hold it--!"

 

He was losing his balance as he struggled to look smarmy and confident rather than absolutely unsure of himself. Thankfully, Albert had snapped the photograph precisely before he lost his footing, the fish swinging lifelessly outwards along with his hand as he outstretched both arms in a failing attempt to keep himself upright.

 

Thank god, he hadn't fallen into the water, though nearby at the edge of the foliage, he could hear his horse, Bones, whinnying as if he'd enjoyed the comedic floundering.

 

"You got it?" Arthur asked, once he was certain that he wouldn't be taking an unintentional bath in the river.

 

Albert gave him a wave of his hand in the affirmative as he fussed with his equipment. "Yes! I believe so."

 

"Good... you uh, mind if I put my shirt back on?"

 

"Of course, of course!"

 

Holstering his revolver, and setting the large fish down for the time-being, Arthur moved to retrieve his red plaid shirt from his nearby supplies. Albert was, as usual, talking to himself rather excitedly.

 

"Who'd have ever thought that there'd be interest in such classic masculinity?"

 

"Surprised me, too." Arthur shrugged himself back into his shirt. "Me and my ugly mug..."

 

"Oh, nonsense. You're far from it. You represent the romantic notions of the American West! Your last photo alone funded my expeditions for the next three months."

 

Arthur's cut of the money hadn't been too bad, either. Though... part of him was still mighty embarrassed by the context of the aforementioned picture hanging up in Saint Denis' art gallery for all to see.

 

"You mean the one with my... _ass_?"

 

No doubt, he saw Arthur's quizzical look while he buttoned up his shirt. Albert fixed him with that serious 'artist's glare' of his.  
  
"It was conservative," Albert countered, as he began to pack up his camera. "Tasteful, even."

 

"I'm sure that's exactly what all the fancy married ladies said when they dragged their old, rich husbands to the art gallery."

 

His arms flailed with energy even as he fussed with his camera set-up.

 

"Well, their funds are as good as anyone's. Besides, they still ended up buying it."

 

Arthur winced, thinking that a picture of himself, buck-ass naked and drunk off his ass, was hanging in someone's living room and considered 'romantic.'

 

"That just ain't appropriate to hang in one's house, 'specially for a married couple." His shirt buttoned on as he quickly pulled his suspender straps over his arms, he gave a thoughtful pause. "'Cept... maybe if they run a brothel."

 

"Maybe they bought it for, uh, a family member?" Albert offered, having packed up the majority of his fragile supplies, while Arthur helped with the rest. "Besides, I'd certainly frame it."

 

At that, Arthur quirked a brow, giving a chuckle.

 

"Would you, now?"

 

"Yes, of course. But, I'm unmarried... and therefore unspoken for. I'm allowed to enjoy such... rustic ideations."

 

" _Rustic_." Arthur shook his head. "You're a strange man, Albert Mason."

 

"Perhaps, perhaps..." Albert slung his supply bag over his shoulder, heading over to his horse, Huckleberry. "Oh, you must be starving after such a long session."

 

"Well, ain't it a good thing we got dinner, now?"

 

Arthur gestured to the muskie that they had initially caught for the sole purpose of their photoshoot, but he supposed killing two birds with one stone was all well and fine. Or maybe in this context it was two fish...

 

"Brilliant! I'll get a fire started."

 

The two men set up camp a ways into the woods, close enough to the riverbank so that the horses could drink, and far enough away so that the ground was no longer moist for where they sat down on the soft earth. The sunset was beautiful and serene, the last rays of daylight dancing on the water like bright electric lights, shifting patterns as fish swam about.

 

The air was crisp, and soon filling their nostrils was the smell of succulent fish, a worthy meal of a hard day of work. Well, Arthur thought it was hard, in any case. Though, he knew that himself being photographed was still far less dangerous than Albert's usual suspects.

 

Maybe that's why he went along with the antics... so that he wouldn't see Albert once again practically throw himself into a wolf's lair. Well, that and posing every now and again was certainly far out of reach from the prying eyes of the authorities. It was a lot less bad reputation, seeing as he was mostly bank-robbing and collecting bounties before he'd met Mister Mason.

 

Now he was picking valuable orchids and posing for photographs to make ends meet. What was Arthur Morgan becoming...?

 

Hopefully, something better. In his herbalist explorations, Arthur had grown to know the local flora quite well, having flavored their fish with oregano. The first bite he'd taken, with provided fork and bowls from Albert's supplies, was delectable. It melted in his mouth... the meat just juicy enough on the inside, and crisp on the outside. He looked over to Albert to gauge his reaction. Far more of a picky eater, and surely more used to fine-dining, Albert wore a smile.

 

"Oh, this is excellent, Arthur. Truly excellent. We must have this again sometime!"

 

"Ain't nothin'." Arthur shrugged. "Just some plants and fish. Nature's got a lot to offer."

 

As they sat across from each other at their campfire, the sky already darkening, Arthur's thoughts grew less inward, shifting attention to his meal, but apparently Albert's mind had been elsewhere.

 

"Mister Morgan, on that note, I've been thinking..."

 

He watched as Albert forked the flakey fish around in his bowl, hesitating.  
  
"Can call me Arthur, ya know. Only told you about a hundred times."

 

"Fine, fine... Arthur. No, that sounds wrong for a man of your distinguished nature. Mister Morgan you remain!" While Arthur shook his head and shoved another large piece of meat in his mouth, Albert was clearing his throat. "Anyway, we've known each other, what, a few weeks?"

 

Arthur shrugged, using the end of his fork to scratch at the five o'clock shadow lining his jaw.  
  
"Reckon a couple of months, now."

 

"My, how time flies... regardless, I feel, except for some pocket change, that I haven't really been able to repay you."

 

"You don't gotta repay me, your company is more than enough."

 

Though he denied such offers, Albert continued.

 

"Flattering as that may be, I'd... I'd like to take you to Saint Denis. Perhaps see the sights, experience some fine dining, and stay in an elegant establishment."

 

"I mean... that's awfully nice, Albert, but--"

 

Arthur trailed off, about to entirely shoot him down (verbally, of course) when he saw the other man's hopeful expression. He shrugged.

 

"... but if you really want to, sure, I guess."

 

"Oh, wonderful! What do you say we leave first thing in the morning?"

 

Arthur considered it, knowing that Saint Denis would take them the majority of the day to ride. It seemed like a decent plan, in any case.

 

"Yeah, think I can manage that."

 

"Excellent! Well, I should be getting an early night. Tomorrow, we begin our quest for adventure in civilization!"

 

Soon after their meal, Albert was washing up by the river and promptly curling into their tent for a good night's rest. Arthur wasn't used to sleeping much... so he stayed awake, partially to write in his journal as he sat by the camp fire, and partially to keep watch while Albert slept as night had fully engulfed the land.

 

Their luck combined often wasn't incredible, so he figured it was the least he could do in attempt to keep the other man safe. He could catch up on sleep in a proper bed once they were in the city.

 

His pen scratched against the paper, accompanied by the calming sounds of the fire crackling, and insects humming their nighttime lullabies. He was considering giving Bones a good wash in the river before morning, when he heard the distinctive cracking of fallen branches nearby. Pistol instantly drawn, and journal discarded, Arthur was on his feet. His gun aimed into the darkness, praying it wasn't more hungry wolves or a bear, and the visage that appeared from the shadows as he stepped into the light surprised him.

 

With a sigh of relief, dry lips whistling somewhat, Arthur holstered his weapon.

 

"Charles, ain't nice to sneak up on a fella like that."

 

The other man smiled, adjusting the strap of the rifle across his chest. As always, he'd come prepared, too.

 

"Been tracking you for days."

 

"Paid off, I see. How'd you find me?"

 

"Made it easy with Bones' tracks. And I know you well enough to notice you always camp somewhere near to hummingbird sage or wild mint."

 

Of course, that couldn't be denied.

 

"You got me there. Did you come out all this way just to check up on me?"

 

Charles looked solemn. "Of course. Dutch was getting worried. Hell, we all were. But... you know how he is."

 

Again, Arthur sighed. Part of the reason escape felt so damned good, was Dutch's ways. Truth be told, Arthur wasn't sure whether to sedate him or punch him in the mouth most days. So, the reprieve was welcome, to say the least.

 

"Sure do." He paused for a moment, noticing that Charles was lingering, but not saying anything. He knew the other man long enough, and well enough, to see that something was on his mind. And then... he said it.

 

"So, who is she?"

 

Arthur practically sputtered. "Whaddya mean?"

 

"Surely it has to be some pretty face to keep you away from camp for so long." Charles wore a knowing smile. "It's all right, I won't tell anyone..."

 

"Now hold up there, you're gettin' the wrong idea. I'm not... with no lady. Just... a friend."

 

As if on cue, snoring sounded from within the tent, its origin very clearly male.

 

An eyebrow raised, Charles elbowed Arthur.

 

"A friend, huh? Awfully small tent."

 

Arthur shoved his shoulder hard, a nervous chuckle escaping him.

 

"Charles, it ain't like that--"

 

He was vaguely aware of how his heart raced. Why was he so ashamed that he was taking photographs for money? His damned fragile masculinity, he was sure. Robbing and killing is what he was expected to do... certainly not, well, any of this.

 

Charles must have noticed his discomfort, because he instantly stopped teasing him.

 

"Listen, Arthur. I'm the last one to judge. If you're making a life for yourself out here, you're welcome to it. But, back at camp, we still think of you. Mostly wondering if you're okay."

 

Honestly, to hear Charles speak so candidly of him made his heart swell. He'd always enjoyed the other man's stoic and quiet nature. To be missed was, well, _nice_.

 

"Tired of doin' all the heavy liftin', are ya?" Arthur chuckled more sincerely this time.

 

"Hey, you pull your weight. But someone has to do it when you're not around."

 

"Anyway, Charles, I'm goin' on a little trip. But I'll be sure to swing by camp after, all right?"

 

"Sounds good. You be careful out here, Arthur."

 

"Will do." Arthur gestured with his hand, about to seat himself by the fire again. "You headin' off so fast?"

 

"Yeah," he smirked, "I've got some business in Valentine."

 

"' _Business_ '... so, a lady, then."

 

"Tell you all about her back at camp?"

 

"Lookin' forward to it."

 

With an affectionate thump of his hand against Arthur's back, Charles disappeared once again into the darkness, this time as quiet as a shadow.

 

As he settled back down at the campfire, the flames licking his body with warmth, Arthur released that it wasn't just the embers making him overheated.

 

Flustered, and wide awake, he sorted out his thoughts in his journal until the sun came up, Albert's snoring ever-present.

 

____________________________________________

 

Morning came, with Arthur only having nodded off briefly, as Albert emerged from the tent looking rather refreshed. He appeared largely the same, though he was minus his favored straw hat, and his vest.

 

When Albert saw him seated where he'd left him the prior evening by the fire, he looked rather aghast.

 

"What a glorious morning! My dear boy, did you stay up all night?"

 

Arthur stared into the fire, which was dwindling a bit. "Guess I couldn't sleep."

 

"Ah, the excitement of the city?"

 

"Yeah... yeah guess it's that." He scratched at the back of his neck. "Like a kid on Christmas. Hey, made some coffee."

 

Albert was instantly bending low to the fire, gathering the tin cup that Arthur had set out for him. "You truly are a delight."

 

"Dunno about that."

 

Arthur was typically shameless about watching the movements of others, but as Albert was thoughtfully sipping at his freshly brewed coffee, he was having difficulty looking at him.

 

Thankfully, he was spared much more awkwardness, as the horses were fed, and camp packed up for their journey. Soon, they were off just as planned, to Saint Denis.

 

They took it easy, enjoying the crisp spring morning, Bones and Huckleberry trotting at a comfortable pace. They rode side-by-side, occasionally sharing casual conversation, or pointing out landmarks along the way, but Arthur was more contemplative than anything.

 

"If it would be all right with you," Albert started, after riding for nearly an hour, "I'd like to take you to the art gallery in town."

 

Arthur's head turned to look at him. "You mean the one that has your work hung up?"

 

"Oh yes! I've submitted a few more since last we met. Both nature and... other mammals."

 

"That means me, doesn't it?" He said, the words intoned as a statement. "Am I gonna be able to show my face in town? Or should I wear my bandana?"

 

"Not to worry, Mister Morgan, and if your photographic fame proceeds you, perhaps someone will ask for an autograph."

 

Albert was chuckling, but Arthur was a bit less amused. What if the gang ended up there? Or word spread? Being Albert's model was becoming a bit more risky than he'd anticipated, even if the pay was nice.

 

Hours passed, with the green countryside and sprawling, white-tipped mountaintops transforming into flatter, swampier terrain. The air grew thick and humid, Arthur's plaid button-up instantly entrapping warmth. He tugged at his neckerchief, inhaling the overly-moist air. Trees surrounded them, the strong, plank-board roads crudely sprawling through the swampland as their horses' hooves clattered rhythmically. In the distance, even through the foggy atmosphere, Saint Denis' silhouette stood as a monument to the modern world, somewhat out-of-place in the otherwise rural land of Lemoyne.

 

They weren't far off from bridge leading into the city, when something caught Arthur's eye.

 

"Hey, hey... hold up." He pulled on the reigns, signaling for Bones to halt as he reached forward to pat his thickly muscled neck.

 

"What is it?" Though Albert stopped too, his face instantly registered alarm. "Are we in danger?"

 

Arthur said nothing, merely dismounted and momentarily left the main road to tread near the edge of the river, where a few trees hugged the waterside.

 

Reaching up delicately to touch the trees side, Arthur carefully plucked a beautiful pursed flower from the bark, white and sprawling, that almost looked as if it had two tiny ballerina's feet hanging from the main flower. Albert looked on curiously, and when Arthur returned to him to show off his prize, cupping it in his hands for display, the other man smiled.

 

"It's a ghost orchid," Arthur explained.

 

"My god, it's beautiful..."

 

"Always heard of 'em," Arthur smiled. "Never saw one for myself til now."

 

"Perhaps a boding of good fortune."

 

"Yeah, maybe."

 

Gently placing the beautiful treasure into his satchel for safekeeping, Arthur mounted his horse again, and they were off towards the city.

 

Saint Denis had a distinctive smell that Valentine and other towns lacked. There was hardly any real air, the city not only bright with electricity and street lights, but almost stagnant with coal and chimneys billowing. Industrial fog lingered, and Arthur surely felt out of place among the prissy boutiques and large factories.

 

Still, this was the civilization that mankind wanted. The culture and social sophistication, the mass-produced kind of generic, top-hat wearing high-society that he'd never quite belong to.

 

This was their changing world. Arthur clutched at his satchel, thinking of that little flower, his chest giving a pang for the nature that surrounded such erudite notions of the new world.

 

_"We're more ghosts than people."_

 

Albert, on the other hand, seemed largely chipper, and Arthur certainly wasn't going to put a damper on his good spirits. If nothing else, he'd be spending time with the other man, before heading back home himself.

 

Truly, that's what mattered to him.

 

Making their way through the throng of well-dressed citizens into the heart of town, it was easy not to get overwhelmed or lost in the noise. Trolleys whistled. Salesmen shouted. Music blared. Whistles sounded.

 

Arthur was halfway in a daze by the time they reached a double-floored building caddy-cornered on the street. Arthur's head tilted when he saw that Albert had hitched Huckleberry on a post outside of the incredibly ritzy Bastille Saloon.

 

"We're stayin' here?" he asked, incredulous. "Not sure I can afford this place. Might burst into flames walkin' inside."

 

He dismounted, and got Bones situated, as Albert chuckled and grabbed his bag of belongings.

 

"Oh, nonsense. This is your chance to feel a bit pampered! We'll rent a room and have a bite to eat."

 

Led by Albert inside the lavish saloon, Arthur tipped his hat lower over his face. In his dust-covered plaid, and mud-encrusted spurs, he felt incredibly out of place. The women situated at a sunlit table having lunch were dressed in frills and layered silk, and men at a far corner table played an early game of poker, jackets, bowties and bowler hats.

 

Albert carried himself like he was one of them, sullied as he was in Arthur's accompaniment.

 

Leaning against the bar, Albert took care of their accommodations, while Arthur remained silent. He knew that Saint Denis was a cultural hub, with people of all walks of life... but he still felt considerably out of place. One of their folded table napkins was probably worth more than everything he owned.

 

Their room procured, and they were soon taking the carpeted staircase to the upper level of the saloon, where there were padded couches and parlor chairs, all velvet and emerald green. A fireplace was lit, keeping the place cozy and warm, and likely for usage during Lemoyne's often torrential rains. A couple of working women waited nearby for potential customers, which he noticed Albert ignored entirely as he followed him to their room. Albert entered first, with Arthur following, and his jaw practically went slack. Arthur paused in the doorway.

 

"Damn... this place is..."

 

"Beautiful," Albert finished for him.  


"Was gonna say 'expensive'."

 

"Well, that's one way of looking at it. A room fit for kings... and your name is kingly, is it not?"

 

Arthur wasn't sure what to say to that, so he awkwardly scratched at the back of his neck, and said nothing. Albert set down his bag on the nearest dresser, and moved to sit on the large, cushioned bed, which happened to be piled with more pillows than anyone should ever own. Albert practically sank into the luxurious mattress. Meanwhile, Arthur was fiddling with some of the objects on the night stand... complimentary candies, a hand-mirror, a candelabra and was that... actually cologne?

 

The place even had a goddamned wash stand with a water vase that looked like a genuine piece of art.

 

He suddenly recalled a far greater treasure, reaching into his satchel to take the freshly-picked orchid out to be set upon the nightstand for safe-keeping.

 

"Oh, that orchid," Albert ventured, with a flourish of his hand, "will you have it preserved?"

 

"Figured it'd fetch a pretty penny."

 

"Ah, I see! Well, there are plenty of collectors in town. Oh, before we venture out, do you mind if I have a bath? You can join, if you'd like."

 

That prospect made his thoughts more muddled, even though he was well aware of the fact that the establishment housed multiple bath tubs. What started out as a mumble eventually turned into words.

 

"Nah, reckon I'm good until tonight. Might explore the city, get some food for Bones. You take your time."

 

"You are a gentleman, Arthur Morgan. I shall see you at lunch, then, freshly spruced!"

 

While Albert got his belongings situated in their room, Arthur took that as his cue to leave. Back outside, he was reunited with Bones, back in the saddle as he rode through Saint Denis' main square. Morning was hustling and bustling. He stopped on the way to visit a farmer's market, buying some fresh apples and carrots for his steed, and a quick bite for himself, before continuing his wandering.

 

About halfway across town, and he saw several advertisement stands for an art gallery. Though he couldn't recall which one Albert had mentioned his photos were displayed in, Arthur wondered...

 

Once again hitching Bones to one of the building's pillars, he gave him a couple of sugar cubes for his trouble, and let himself inside of the gallery.

 

The building was elaborate, several large rooms cleared out for viewings. It looked empty at this hour... but their door had been unlocked. He had already stepped inside of the first room, when a woman appeared from around the corner of the next room. Arthur waved at her somewhat awkwardly.

 

"I'm sorry sir, we're not open yet for the day--" She paused mid-sentence, clutching her hand to her frilled chest. "Oh, goodness in heaven, it's you!"

 

Well, apparently he'd come to the right place. In the next room, he saw over her shoulder that they weren't alone. Other gallery curators or artists, most likely.

 

"Ma'am, do you mind keeping it down? Tryin' to keep a... uh, a low profile."

 

"My sincerest apologies! It's just that... well, your last photograph caused quite the stir."

 

Not altogether comforting. Arthur observed her for a moment, noticing that she was glancing him up and down. He tugged his hat further over his eyes.

 

"Say, Miss, uh--"

 

"Lynn."

 

"Miss Lynn, the fellow that submitted that ... picture. Albert Mason. He got any more in here right now?"

 

"Why yes! He submitted several lovely works which are currently taking bids."

 

"Mind if I see 'em?"

 

"Of course! Come right this way."

 

In the next room, Arthur didn't make eye contact with the men in the gallery, but tipped his hat politely. They arrived at the far corner of the filigree-decorated walls. Albert's work was instantly recognizable, framed and hanging with his name on a plaque. A herd of wild horses... an eagle flying majestically. Even an alligator. All too familiar to him. They were just simple photographs of a nature enthusiast to others, but for Arthur, they each sparked not-so-distant memories. His breath hitched.

 

What was missing, however, was any specimens of the human variety. Scratching at his stubbly chin, Arthur hesitated before speaking up.

 

"None of...?"

 

Thankfully, Miss Lynn seemed to catch his drift.

 

"Of you? No, sir, these are all Mister Mason gave us for display."

 

"You're sure?"

 

"Yes, sir, absolutely."

 

"Well, thank you for your time, ma'am."

 

Though the woman seemed somewhat confused, Arthur was left scratching his head, proverbially and literally. Albert had said that his more recent pieces featuring him, were up for display.

 

Either Albert had a poor memory, which wouldn't be utterly surprising... or, well, he was lying. Arthur wasn't born yesterday, and his instincts pretty much knew which one he was leaning towards. Regardless, it was all very strange to him.

 

Left even more fuddled than before, Arthur took some time for himself, letting the afternoon slip by. When he finally mustered up the words to head back to Bastille Saloon, he saw that Albert was sitting at a window table, waving him over. The man was wearing an outfit he'd never seen him in before... a much fancier plaid vest, freshly laundered, and his beard trimmed, hat clean, and skin free of grime or dirt.

 

"Mister Morgan! I was just getting worried. I've ordered us some delicious lobster bisque. If you thought that fish was delectable, just wait until you try this."

 

"Not hungry." Arthur grabbed him by the upper arm, keeping his voice low in so as not to cause a commotion, even though the waiter nearest to them was already looking on curiously. "Need to have a little talk. Upstairs. Now."

 

Muscled arms lifting upwards as he gripped Albert's elbow, hefting him out of his seat, and he gave the other man a light shove towards the stairs. Albert slinked in front of him, looking very much like a coyote with his tail between his legs. When the courtesans upstairs greeted them pleasantly, Arthur faked a toothy smile before pushing Albert towards their hotel room, promptly shutting the door behind them.

 

For once in his life, Albert looked terrified over something that wasn't wolves trying to eat him alive. It was the photographer that was the cornered animal, now, but Arthur knew that he was as intimidating as any canine. Fidgeting near the bed, he stood there, nervously smoothing down his vest, palms flat against his torso.

 

"Uh... might I ask, what the meaning of this is?"

 

Arthur's voice came off cool, conversational. "Went to the gallery today."

 

Albert exhaled an extremely nervous laugh. "Without me? I can't say that I expected such excitability from you!"

 

"Yeah, well, spoke with the little lady there. Miss Lynn? You know her?"

 

"Ah, yes of course. Miss Lynn always graciously accepts my pieces. But, Mister Morgan, why do you ask?"

 

"Enough beating around the bush. You didn't submit those photos to the gallery, did you?"

 

Albert was recoiling. "What? Surely there must be some mistake, I--"

 

"I wanna know where they went."

 

As Albert backed up, his knees hit the edge of the large bed. Arthur closed in on him, his face breadths away from his. He could feel his hot breath against his face as he breathed nervously, and now that he was close, could smell a musky scent on him. Was he... really wearing that god damned cologne from the dresser? Who was he trying to impress?

 

It wasn't even about Arthur getting his fair share, any more. He couldn't care less if he was being paid or not. Was it another perverted old couple? A young widow? Strange collectors? He had the right to know.

 

The answer that Albert gave, even as Arthur was about to take hold of his shirt collar, honestly took him by surprise.

 

 

"I... oh, I guess there's no use... I-- they didn't go anywhere. In fact, they are in my possession. I... wanted to have something to remember you by."

 

In that moment, it seemed as if both Arthur's brain, and his heart, seemed to cease functioning all at once.

 

_"What?"_

 

"It was utterly selfish, and deplorable, I know... but... you see, you mean quite a lot to me, and--"

 

Arthur's chest seemed to go from being stricken with lack of air, to a sudden pounding of blood in his ears. The world grew small. Enclosed, like a cave-in. Albert's eyes were wide with fear, but there was something else there... something Arthur hadn't quite noticed before, as the man continued to back himself into a literal corner and ramble on.

 

"-- and I rather enjoy our time spent together. But... you see, I wasn't sure how to ask... and... I had a feeling you'd find it absolutely inappropriate--"

 

Arthur acted, without repression, warm-blooded instinct rushing through his veins. Albert gasped when Arthur's calloused hands tugged him closer to his face by the collar of his well-pressed shirt. But, no blows came. Instead, Arthur pressed his mouth to his, fiercely, yet sweetly.

 

Though Albert made a muffled gasp against his lips, he soon reciprocated, arms clinging around his waist.

 

"Mister Morgan, I--!"

 

"Shut up," Arthur mumbled against his beard, and pushed him backwards so that he tumbled onto the bed. Albert's hat immediately fell off, landing on the mattress. Now on top of him, Arthur felt remotely like he was wrestling a criminal, as it was sincerely the only time in his life he'd ever been straddling another man.

 

He chose not to think too deeply on it, as one of his palms cradled the back of his head, while he continued to kiss him deeply. Albert was largely still, seemingly in a state of shock as Arthur took the lead. He smelled nice. He was pleasant to touch. Hell, he even tasted good.

 

When their lips parted, at last, both panting and surely hearts racing, Arthur noticed the adoration in Albert's features, as he gazed up at him, one of his hands having found his bicep, lightly squeezing as if to make sure he was truly present.

 

"Next time, just ask, you goddamned fool," Arthur said, at last.

 

"Duly noted," Albert said breathlessly. "Though, I must admit... this is far better than any photograph I could have taken."

 

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head as he remained balanced on his arms, looking down at him. Albert continued, daring to reach up to touch Arthur's far smoother features. Arthur didn't flinch.

 

"I suppose the single bed won't be an issue, then?"

 

"Dunno," Arthur grumbled, and Albert tugged his hand away.

 

"Oh, dear, I--"

 

Arthur nudged his nose against his. "I mean our tent _is_ already pretty small."

 

_Goddamn you, Charles._

 

At that, Albert sincerely laughed. "Well, _Arthur_ , I suppose that's true..."

 

The way Albert, at last, sincerely said his name, made his stomach flutter in the most pleasant of ways.

 

"Guess Saint Denis ain't so bad, after all," Arthur shrugged, playing it off humorously.

 

When he looked up, noticing the dresser where he'd placed the orchid, he saw that it was now preserved in a jar of glycerin... his partner having apparently been far more busy during the course of the day than he'd let on.

 

As Arthur leaned in to kiss him once more, only that flower would know of the bond formed between the two lovers, ghosts of a dying world, entangled in each other's arms precisely as nature intended all along.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading, and please look out for more RDR from me in the future!


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